


Theories in Kinship

by AuntieClimactic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Daddy Issues, M/M, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:36:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuntieClimactic/pseuds/AuntieClimactic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel and Sam have more in common than they know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Theories in Kinship

**Author's Note:**

> Written during Season 5, before Hammer of the Gods. Cross posted from my livejournal.

Gabriel was born from the light of God’s will. His first sight was his Father, and his first words were to his Father. He was the center of Gabriel’s being, the reason and core of his existence.

Gabriel was God’s messenger. He carried the word that separated light from darkness, water from land. It was beautiful. A worthy creation of its Master. Blue rippled from black, spreading into the warmer hues of red, trickling into green, and misting into silver, orange, and, finally, yellow. God’s touch was everywhere. Even in the prophesy of its end.

For eons, Gabriel delivered orders that drove his brothers and sisters into battle. Orders delivered from his hands shattered their bodies into non-existence. 

After Lucifer was cast down, Gabriel questioned. When the atoms split and combined into the cells of a human, Gabriel watched in awe and sadness as the creatures shifted from all fours to bipedal motion. Was this not the reason for Heaven’s war? Why struggle for something if it had no meaning? 

To an angel, the beginnings of life happened in the blink of an eye. When he returned to Heaven, Gabriel found only a crushing emptiness where his Father used to be. 

The betrayal was sharp. What was a messenger without a message? 

So Gabriel followed his Father’s final word, and abandoned Heaven.

***

During Sam’s first year at Sanford he didn’t contact his family. Dean called, but their conversations were strained with everything said the night Sam left. Finally, Dean stopped calling, sending only a few emails with case questions or letting him know that he and dad were still alive.

Sam should have tried more to keep up, but living away from his family for the first time was a relief he refused to examine, writing it off as a reprieve from the constant worry that tonight would finally, finally be the night one of them ducked when they should have dodged. 

And he had term papers, exams, and presentations to worry about, usually all in the same week. 

He had friends. 

Sam had never had a group of fixed people in his life besides Dean and Dad, but now he knew people who could make jokes that didn’t involve death or vampire mating rituals, friends who could look at him and see someone else besides a Winchester. People whom he wanted to be around and who wanted to be around him instead of being trapped together by a car, an enforced sense of duty, and few chromosomes. 

Sometimes Sam felt like college was his own personal witness protection program. A place where he could carve out his own existence and be whoever he wanted.

***

During his time living as a human, Gabriel learned two things. First, was the way to live among them without losing his Grace. 

Before Gabriel was the Trickster, he was Ambriel, Obadiah, Elisha, Rebecca, Dor, Calliope, Theodore, Christopher, Alexis, Jordon, Irene, Ethelfaed, Beorn, and Fredrick, among others. He lived thousands of lives, building his own vessels out of dust and clay rather than claim the body of another. This cut off his connection with Heaven completely; he had none of his angelic abilities in these constructed forms, and that was how he wanted it. 

Vessels containing angelic energy could always be tracked or linked in some way, but Gabriel preferred the silence. There were no more messages he wanted to carry.

The second lesson was learned early: humans were violent. They inflected more suffering upon each other than anything the Pit could dream of. In fact, most of the more creative souls found their way down, helping it grow into the Pit’s more… intricate version. 

They did it with the name of God on their lips. But God wasn’t listening. God wasn’t watching. And the longer Gabriel watched the more convinced he became that God wasn’t here. 

There was no other explanation for the Wicked and Immoral cutting down the Just. In Heaven, when Angels strayed from God’s light they were cast down. On Earth, the corrupt were given crowns.

The inconsistency of action and direction sat like an itch under Gabriel’s false skin.

***

Lucifer reminded Sam of a used car salesman. The type of guy who could convince you that a third hand, beat up, 1991 Volvo with no power steering, four wheel drive, or horse power to speak of would be an excellent investment for your future.

The only way to get Dean into a car like that would be to bring their father back from the dead to order him into the thing. Sam, though, Sam spent most of his life being tricked into these types of down payments. 

Fire this.

Kill that.

Avenge your mother. 

Stay where you belong.

Drink my blood. 

Say yes.

Sometimes, in the dark, with Dean sleeping soundly across the room of yet another crappy motel, Sam would think of all the times he tried to run.

College.

Ruby.

His crusade against Lilith.

No matter how hard he ran, Sam always found himself right back at the starting point. Saying yes was just the latest in a long line of orders hidden beneath the guise of conversations, negotiations, and righteous crusades.

Sam wasn’t scared that Lucifer would convince him to say yes. Sam was terrified that no was an impossible word in the genetic vocabulary of his fate.

You can run all your life, but you can’t outrun your life.

***

While wandering among Brazil, Gabriel met Pomba Gira. Gabriel approached the decidedly inhuman creature with a certain curiosity. It was not in God’s original word.

In a female figure, Pomba Gira was standing placidly at the site where a village once stood, consuming various fruits while kicking bits of smoking rubble.

“Well, well, well,” it said, eyeballing Gabriel up and down. “You’re not from around here.”

“Your work needs structure.” Gabriel gestured to the wreckage.

It threw its head back and laughed, throwing several berries in Gabriel’s face. An ancient part of him bristled at the insolence, but a newer, growing part of him found this thing decidedly amusing. 

“This village belonged to a race of men who would raid neighboring villages to rape the women. They would later return to steal the male offspring, producing a proud race of warriors without female interference. I was born from their cries for vengeance.”

Gabriel titled his head, “And you killed them and burned their village down?”

“No. I merely offered the power of the Gods to the man who could prove himself the strongest warrior. The self-destruction and fire was a bonus.”

“They turned their pride and violence against themselves.” Gabriel smiled. His Grace, buried deep, flared. Pomba Gira stepped back, nervously.

Folding his Grace away, Gabriel asked, “What are you?”

Pomba Gira’s teeth were white and sharp; “My kind call ourselves the Tricksters.”

***

Despite his new college life, changing his old habits proved more difficult than Sam hoped. Often, he would find himself scanning the morning paper for news of mysterious deaths, signs of paranormal behavior, or even the cryptic messages hunters occasionally placed in the wanted ads.

One day, Sam found what he realized he had been looking for all along. A house in an older part of the neighborhood repeatedly placed on the market didn’t raise many eyebrows, but the bodies that kept turning up on its property did. 

Sam tried contacting Dean. No luck. After an insurance inspector disappeared, Sam gritted his teeth and, for the first time in two years, called his dad. 

He got the voice mail.

The first time, Sam left a terse message outlining the situation. The second time, he screamed into the phone for his father to stop letting people die because he want to prove his goddamn point. For the third message, Sam apologized for yelling, asking his dad to call him back. 

Sam didn’t leave a message the fourth time. The house was back on the market, so Sam picked up the duffle bag buried in a back corner of his closet and took a bus downtown.

It was a routine haunting. Original owner died in the house, blah, blah, blah. But Sam was alone, angry, and out of practice. He found the spirit’s remains, salted and burned them, but not before he was thrown down a flight stairs, through a window, and nearly decapitated by a sheet of broken glass. 

Sam passed out on his bed. The next morning, the newspaper ran a story of the house being vandalized, and the morning after that Dean called.

“Sammy!”

“Don’t calling me that.”

“Whatever, Sam. You okay?”

“Why are you asking?”

Heavy silence.

“Dean?”

“Look, Sam -”

“He got my messages didn’t he?”

“He just wanted you –”

“He wanted to prove to me that we’re no longer family and he has no obligation to help me?”

“No! Jesus, Sam, of course not.”

“So what? Dad endangered not only my life but also civilians’ to make me see how I can’t change my nature? That hunting’s in my blood?”

“Well, isn’t it?”

Sam gripped the phone so hard, he felt the plastic creak, “Fuck him. Tell Dad that he can go to Hell.” 

Later, Sam would remember this conversation.

***

In human form, angels could procreate. They would have to desire it, and not many of them did. After a while, none of them did.

Gabriel had a daughter. She died, as all humans do. 

At her grave, Gabriel prayed for her soul. Prayed for the first time since he found emptiness in the place of his Father. But God was unavailable, and others found him.

“Gabriel.”

Gabriel stood up and brushed dust from his knees. He was in a female form.

“Raphael. Long time.”

“We need you. The final battle between Heaven and Hell is beginning.”

“Beginning? It started a while ago, in case you forgot.”

“We are waiting.”

“For the birth of the two.”

Raphael cocked his head, “You know this.” 

Gabriel forced his lips to stretch in a smile. “You forget my former position.”

“No, brother. You forget.”

“I turn away, but I can’t forget. I don’t have the ability.”

Silence. Gabriel felt Raphael’s Grace tug on his own, urging it forward. 

“We cannot defeat Lucifer without you.” 

Gabriel shoved his Grace further down. “I won’t kill in the name of a God who no longer exists.”

Raphael stepped closer, “Then fight with us to end it all. God no longer speaks. We should not tolerate his broken creation.”

Gabriel snorted. Raphael blinked, confused by the unfamiliar sound.

“Then why not let Lucifer finish what he started? Why do we have to tear each other apart?”

“Lucifer must not rule Heaven.”

Silence. Then Gabriel laughed least he cry.

“This is what it’s become. Two rival companies competing over property rights?”

Raphael’s wings flared. Lighting struck the earth nearby. “Careful, Gabriel. Some say you’ve nearly fallen. That you’re a threat.”

“Damn you and your war.” Gabriel shed his form and threw himself away, faster than his brother could follow. 

He once threw himself in front of a blast meant for Raphael. It had hurt.

***

One time, Gabriel caught Sam stealing glances at him. Sizing him up.

Gabriel stretched, and folded his arms behind his head, winked, “See anything you like?”

Sam blushed and Gabriel felt surprised that a person who had seen (and done) as much as Sam could still have the capacity for embarrassment.

“I’m just wondering…” Sam trailed off, and Gabriel cocked an eyebrow.

“Why didn’t you choose a vessel with more, you know,” Sam made an incomprehensible gesture, “Grandeur.”

Gabriel let a slow, honest smile creep over his face, “Are you asking me why I’m not bigger?”

Sam grumbled, and turned away.

“I never take a human vessel. Beggars can’t be choosers,” Gabriel answered. Sam stared, an odd look coming into his eyes that made Gabriel nervous. It was too close to respect.

“And I assure you it’s big enough,” Gabriel leered, breaking the moment.

Sam rolled his eyes and got up.

“Come on, Sam!” Gabriel called after him, “You gotta learn to laugh.” 

***

Sam has buried hundreds of people. Victims, Jess, his dad, and, finally, Dean. When Dean died Sam went a little crazy. He left a trail of alcohol bottles and dead demons in his wake, just as he had in the Trickster’s universe.

When Ruby showed up, it was a relief.

It was partly because Sam had help. But a bigger part of it was that he didn’t have to make decisions anymore. Sam could let something besides his grief and rage take the driver’s seat for a while, shutting down the part of him that felt like it was cracking in half.

But another part of the relief came from something larger. Something Sam thought once, and then immediately clamped down on.

Because now, if Dean turned into a demon in Hell and was sent up to finish what Azazel started, Sam wouldn’t have to be the one who killed whatever was left of his family.

The Trickster was right. Dean was his weakness. 

And Hell knew it.

***

Gabriel found Pomba Gira. It was in male form this time - short, dirty blonde, hazel eyes. It was watching a conjured dinosaur chase a priest through the jungle. 

“It’s a bit heavy handed,” it said to Gabriel in acknowledgement. “Not my best.” 

“Please.” Gabriel asked.

It stared into him. Saw him. “You don’t need my permission. I’m not human. You could cast me out and take this body by force.”

Gabriel said nothing, waiting.

“What a strange thing you are. Powerful and damaged.” It sighed, “You should learn to laugh.”

“Please.”

“I won’t be in here with you, but you will still be governed by the same physical rules as I.” It paused, “Well, not really. You’ll get an extra boost or five thousand.” 

Gabriel stepped close and gently pushed. As Pomba Gira slipped out, Gabriel slid into the shell it had built.

Assuming the form of the Trickster restored his old sense of angelic righteousness, where the wicked could be punished. But it allowed him to work under a false name.

It was a relief, but even in his new form, Gabriel heard the whispers of the coming two.

***

Once Gabriel made his choice, the entire dynamic of the group shifted. Dean wasn’t sure how to handle it. His rude comments about angels made Castiel frown, hurt, and Dean’s stuttered explanations that it wasn’t all angels, just the douchey ones, didn’t help smooth things over. 

Sam tried a few awkward attempts to play middleman, organizing hunting groups that would separate them and breaking up Gabriel and Dean’s staring contests with loud speculations about the oncoming Armageddon.

Castiel mostly gazed at Gabriel with big doe eyes, staring at his older brother in awe.

This all caused Gabriel endless hours of undisguised amusement. He especially enjoyed how Dean would grip his butter knife whenever Gabriel threw his arm over the back of Sam’s chair in a diner. Castiel would steady Dean by gripping his knee, and that caused a few raised eyebrows on Sam’s end.

“You always mess with Dean.” Sam accused, “It’s not helping the situation.”

“Depends on the situation you’re looking at.” Gabriel countered. 

“Bullshit.” Sam’s bitch mode was set on level three apparently. “You just like fucking with him.”

Gabriel couldn’t choose the best response so he said all of them; “A, you never grasp any of the subtleties. B, odd habits die hard. And c, he’s not the one I’d like to fuck with.”

Instead of turning bright red like Gabriel expected, Sam eyed him up and down in a way that was deliciously dirty, and totally a bluff. 

“You talk big, don’t you?”

Gabriel grinned, nice and slow, letting the tension build up, “Family trait.”

Sam made a rude noise and moved to walk away, but Gabriel grabbed Sam’s arm and yanked. Sam ended up in his lap, eyes dark with surprise and heat. 

“But fun fact, about angels and Tricksters.” Gabriel watched as Sam’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips nervously. “We talk big, but we keep our word.”

Bluff seen and raised.

***

As a Trickster, Gabriel stopped doing two things: having sex with humans and praying. 

Instead of prayer, Gabriel laughed.

But he didn’t want to touch humans anymore. Anyway he did would signal a choice on his part. Messing with them was his duty as a Trickster. Nothing more.

Instead of sex with living beings, he preferred to conjure forms out of thin air. It was simpler. He enjoyed sex as a human, but as a Trickster he could control when it happened, how it happened, and what happened. He was the god of his own little universe, meaning he didn’t have to think about the other God or the other universe.

Sex was a distraction, an addiction.

Sex was awesome.

 

***

Sex was dangerous.

Jess wasn’t his first, despite what Dean said around the dinner table. But sex led to love and everyone Sam loved ended up dead. Jess, Madison, Dad, Dean, Ruby (he did love her, in a way), Ellen, Joe... He kept a list in his head. 

Perhaps that is why the first time he and Gabriel fuck, Sam panted out a steady stream of declarations.

“I don’t love you,” Sam said, trusting hard up into the smaller body straddling his. “I don’t love you, I don’t love you.” 

Gabriel’s hips twisted down and Sam’s words fractured into a high-pitched, keening sound that would embarrass him later. Hands threaded into Sam’s hair, tightening and bringing him up into a kiss. Gabriel opened Sam’s mouth wide – making it into something deep, desperate, and consuming.

Sam broke away and buried his head in Gabriel’s throat, biting kisses into the pulse there. His hand slid between them and wrapped around Gabriel’s erection. Gabriel hissed, hips jerking forward into Sam’s fist and back onto his cock. 

Nails raked down Sam’s back, thighs tightened around his waist. Sam’s breath hitched when Gabriel’s tongue traced the shell of his ear, breathing into it softly.

“I don’t love you,” Sam protested, pushing deep into Gabriel’s body. Gabriel tugged on his hair again, pulling him into a slow kiss that fractured something inside Sam. He sucked on Sam’s lower lip briefly before releasing his mouth with a wet, obscene sound.

“You’re right,” he gasped, his face flushed pink, lips swollen, eyes blown. “This means nothing.”

Sam tightened his grip on Gabriel’s cock, angling his hips up and left. Gabriel’s back arched. The ceiling above them cracked when he spilled hotly against Sam’s hand and stomach. 

There was no flash of white light, no glowing from underneath Gabriel’s skin, but Sam still shuddered apart when Gabriel’s muscles clamped down around him.

They lay there. Sam catching his breath. Gabriel, with no need to breathe, was oddly silent. 

It lasted for about a minute. 

“You know.” Gabriel said, deceptively thoughtful, “The last time I did this with a human, I got pregnant.”

Sam’s face twisted into an automatic expression of pure, human panic. Gabriel managed to shoot him a look that was both condescending and smug. 

It scared Sam that they could now communicate in gestures. He wondered how transparent he had become.

***

Lucifer found Gabriel eventually. It was only inevitable after the Wonder Boys broke his cover. He’d already told one party where they could shove their war. Now it was time for the other side to give his sales pitch.

“Brother.”

Gabriel glanced pointedly at the summoning spells that had been twisted and modified to fit his name. It was elaborate and ballsy.

It pissed him off.

“Luci.” Gabriel extended his arms in mock surrender. “You rang?”

Lucifer didn’t react to the derision of his name. He stared, letting the power of his Grace roll off of him in waves. 

He was still beautiful. 

“You know why I called you here.” It wasn’t a question. Lucifer was too arrogant to question. He always assumed everyone would bend to his thinking.

“Let me guess.” Gabriel placed his finger to his lips. “You loved God best. Blah, blah, blah. He betrayed you. Blah, blah, blah. You deserve to reclaim your place in Heaven. Blah, blah, blah. I’ve heard this song and dance before. Same old Lucifer and his world of ‘I’ statements.”

Gabriel once pierced Lucifer’s Grace with his sword. He has turned his back on Heaven and lived a thousand lives, he has watched civilizations fall and kings turn to dust. He was God’s messenger, a wanderer, a mother, a Trickster, and a fucking archangel of the Lord.

He wasn’t afraid; he was exhausted. 

“Hear my words, Gabriel.” Lucifer pressed closer, earnest to his core. “You know them to be true. This filth that calls itself humanity doesn’t deserve the gift of existence. You, you who carried the messages of our Father, you must feel its insincerity with all your senses.”

Lucifer lifted his hand. It extended between them, palm cupped in welcome.

“Join me, brother. We can make things right again. Put them back as they were.”

Gabriel stared at the hand. He felt the mask of the Trickster slipping away. When he spoke, it was pure angel.

“Lucifer, brother, no.”

The hand fell away.

“You can’t remain neutral forever.” Lucifer’s voice was sad and manipulative. “The time will come when you must choose a side.”

Gabriel took three steps, and framed Lucifer’s face with his hands. He felt the Grace of his brother blazing inside its vessel, burning the soul trapped within into nothingness. Knowledge came, as hard, fast, and gentle as the first sight of his Father. It was the reason why he never took a human vessel, the reason he survived as he did.

Gabriel spoke, “I have a side.”

Lucifer made no move to strike, but Gabriel felt his anger and potential for destruction coiling. “Your own side is not a side.”

“No. Even now, you fail to understand.” Gabriel leaned his forehead against his brother’s in an ancient gesture. “I have always been on a side. It’s not mine. It’s not Heaven’s.”

Lucifer’s arms came up to embrace him, but Gabriel stepped away.

“And it’s not yours.”

Gabriel spread his wings, broke the symbols that bound him there, and flew away.

He wasn’t running. Not this time.

***

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam threw his hands up in exasperation.

Gabriel shrugged and absently picked a piece of demon out of Castiel’s hair, “Middle child syndrome?” 

***

Sam knew this day. He dreamed of it.

Lucifer stood before him. 

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Sam.” Lucifer gestured to his assembled army of demons, fallen angels, horseman, and nightmares. “Together we can make this end quietly. An act of mercy for the race that eats away at God’s gift.”

Sam thought back. He remembered his father’s harsh disappointment, his brother’s destructive loyalty, and his string of failed rebellions. They have led him back to this point, this moment in his life that was set in motion years before his birth.

Castiel never found God. Gabriel spoke a few words to him one night after his latest failure and Castiel stopped looking all together. Sam didn’t ask why, but he thought he knew.

God didn’t help artists win awards. He didn’t save starving children, cause floods, or help crops grow. If God was still around, he wasn’t getting involved. And maybe that was the best thing He had ever done. 

And He wasn’t the first father to skip out of a fight instead of killing his children. 

There was a touch of fate in the universe. For such things to pass fate was needed, but with fate came a fuck ton of free will, and that could kick fate’s ass any day. Sam agreed to things because he wanted to. His choices have always been his own. 

They have led him here; they don’t define him. 

Sam breathed deeply, and looked Lucifer in the eye. He said the words.

“You and your daddy issues can suck my cock.”

***

The night before, Gabriel leaned over and kissed Sam, slow and steady. His mouth was warm. He pulled away and looked down at him, lips quirked in a way that was different from his ever-present smirk. Its curve softer, sadder. Bare. 

“I don’t love you either.”

Sam laughed.


End file.
